It must have been sometime around ten years ago that I discovered Rosemary Herbert’s excellent encyclopaedic work The Oxford Companion to Crime & Mystery Writing (Oxford University Press, 1999), loaded with a myriad of cross-references and ‘see also’ footnotes. For me, this book opened numerous avenues of further exploration within genre literature as well as being something of a mini education in various genre elements and associations.

With a child-like sense of wonder, perhaps, it also induced me to visualise a television Crime & Mystery genre version. An exploration of the TV genre shaped in the book’s fascinating cross-reference format and structure. Instead of author entries, overviews of genre TV series.

I went on to spend months compiling an outline and a book proposal. During this time I indulged in an almost fanatical research programme (rather prematurely) which, ultimately, resulted in several large cartons of documentation. But it also enriched my life with marathon viewings (via VHS/DVD) of previously unseen genre series.

When the book proposal and chapter outline were complete, I pursued various possible media publishers. However, I soon discovered that these ‘media’ publishers (at least the London-based ones) seemed to barely have a grip on aspects of cinema history. That Television — genre television, at that — was considered not even a footnote in the grand scheme of things exploitable.

Fortunately, Steve has very graciously allowed me to put some of this research and enthusiasm to use as an occasional series of observations on popular cycles and phases in the history of the TV Crime & Mystery genre.

I intend to call it Prime Time Suspects (Crime & Mystery Television). For this on-line format I have revised (and greatly shortened) the draft of my original Introduction:

It is a dangerous — and perhaps insane — undertaking to attempt to compress into a series of installments the history of a television genre as prolific and for the most part as rewarding as the Crime & Mystery. A genre that has enjoyed viewer popularity for over 60 years.

The only thing that may be possible here is something of a bird’s eye view of the various TV forms and phases. My interest here will be to share a discussion of the series and programmes in this history, both in their relationship to their sources (literature, of course, as well as radio and cinema) along with the general evolution of the medium and its developing culture.

There was a time when the approach to genre television tended to be structuralist, often dismissive. For instance, Tom Ryan, writing in Sight & Sound in 1976, noted that “Kojak, Columbo, Police Woman, Joe Forrester, S.W.A.T., Streets of San Francisco, and the others are seen to merge into each other, distinguishable only in terms of the different stars in each of the series.”

Rather uncomfortably, this crude opinion sounds somewhat like the once held, blinkered view of the “Hollywood production factory” of cinema — until it was noticed (originally by French Cahiers critics, later exemplified by Andrew Sarris) that there were significant differences within the genres.

One of the earliest writers to observe and evaluate aspects of television was Jack Edmund Nolan in his pioneering TV column in the pages of Films in Review magazine (running from around the mid 1960s).

Nolan was perhaps the first to apply Sarris’ auteur theory to television, observing and analysing the small-screen work of directors ranging from Stuart Heisler to Sam Wanamaker (and, in one instance, even considered Roger Moore’s directorial excursions during production of The Saint series, ITV 1962-69).

There can be no doubt that, taken in bulk, the genre series which concern us regularly tend to perpetrate distortions and omissions which have proved extremely galling to this writer’s critical generation. My contention, ultimately, is that many of the short-run, lesser-known series can be richer in nuance, in tension, in character and intricacy of plot, than they have been given credit for in the past.

For instance, Ralph Meeker’s laconic military police investigator in Not for Hire (syndicated, 1959) and Roddy McMillan’s Glasgow private eye in The View from Daniel Pike (BBC, 1971-73) are more than equal to the acclaimed NCIS (CBS, 2003- ) and Baretta (ABC, 1975-78), respectively.

It may be easy enough to summarize an epoch by selecting the most distinguished series, and concentrating thereon. But the manifest conveniences of this process have confirmed one of the principal distortions of TV criticism. The impression is conveyed that run-of-the-mill series never say anything, that vivid or insightful remarks or situations are a monopoly of a few prestigious individuals (the Stephen Bochco or Lynda La Plante productions, for example).

Ranging from world-wide counter-espionage to the mean streets of the private investigator, the television law keeper is impelled by an almost idealistic world-view and a belief in justice, a commitment to order, and, at times, a sense of chivalry. The quest for justice underlies all of these activities; the plots follow a pattern of murder, corruption, and the establishment of a governing system to solve a puzzle and to return a sense of order to its citizens.

Even though the genre has a strong tradition of unique conventions and the programmes themselves have been popular from the early days of broadcast television (the mid 1930s) to the present, a lack of attention may be the result of a certain confusion over precisely what comprises the TV genre. It has been described so narrowly as to include the police detective procedural exclusively, and so broadly as to encompass virtually any TV series featuring a crime.

I would like to think that the occasional chapters that follow will take steps toward what may be an original definition of TV Crime & Mystery, emphasising the importance of the formal TV crime puzzle and its attendant characterisations and codes of behaviour.

The TV genre includes not only police detectives but also similar related crime and mystery forms, such as adventurers, spies and investigative science experts. One of my central aims will be to demonstrate just how rich and rewarding these programmes can be in their own sub-divisions. I concluded eventually that only a mapping of the various sub-genres existing within the larger field could provide the overview I was looking for.

Future installments will have me looking at, for example, the late 1950s Private Eye cycle (Peter Gunn, 77 Sunset Strip, etc.), the Prohibition Era Mob (The Untouchables, The Lawless Years, etc.), the New Age of Agatha Christie (UK television period 1980 to 1992), among many other genre cycles and forms.

— Tise Vahimagi is currently the TV Database Editor for the British Film Institute.

16 Responses to “PRIME TIME SUSPECTS: An Introduction, by Tise Vahimagi.”

It’s a real crime that Tise Vahimagi could not find a publisher for his valuable research into TV mystery shows. Fortunately Mystery File exists to provide a forum for discussion. I will be very interested in reading future installments. Thanks to dvds, official releases and bootleg discs exist so we can watch many of these series.

Your last sentence is a key one, that’s for sure. For many years I tended to ignore books and magazine articles about movies and TV shows. It was too frustrating to read about them with no realistic chance of ever seeing any of them.

Late night TV offered the only opportunity, and then it was hit or miss, and even if you did get a chance to see a film you’d happened to read about, it was gone again.

What a difference there is between then and now. NOT FOR HIRE, mentioned by Tise in this introductory piece, is about as obscure as a TV series made in this country can get, and yet earlier this evening I was able to find someone online with a DVD containing five episodes he is offering for sale.

I too look forward to further columns. One of my first writing jobs was to cover television for the (now dead) Baton Rouge (LA) “Enterprise” in the late 70’s.

However Jack Edmund Nolan of FILMS IN REVIEW got it wrong to say the TV series is a reflection of the director. The true power of TV is the producer/writer. Roy Huggins, Quinn Martin, and Stephen J. Cannell to name just a few.

Michael brings up a good point that I have noticed many times over the years while watching old TV shows. The producer/writer is usually the main creative force behind a TV series. There are exceptions of course, like a big star completely dominating the series but the director is too busy just getting the show completed within budget and in time. Most of these series were on a weekly basis and the director did not have time to put his personal stamp on a TV show. Yes, it was possible with a film because then you might have several weeks, plus a director might have some say in casting, film crew, etc.

Weekly TV filming had to be completed in far less than a week because then you had to edit and do post production, etc. So most shows must have had a shooting schedule of like two or three days. At any rate, the director has such a very short time, just a few days. Not too likely for him to be able to influence the show. Most TV directors had no voice in the casting, stars, scripts, or even crew. These things were all set by the producer and front office.

By the way, look at the credits on IMDB.com for Roy Huggins and Quinn Martin. These are just two of the very best producer/writers that produced quality TV.

Tise Vahimagi’s book “The American Vein” is great. I’ve frequently consulted it over the years. It is a gold mine of information on American television.
Am looking forward to the new series of posts very much.
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Authorship of old TV shows is still Unproven, to quote the old Scots courtroom verdict. The belief today that producers were responsible for TV shows is popular – but problematic, IMHO.

Many directors of old TV shows had personal styles. Joseph H. Lewis’ work is strongly personal, for example, both on The Rifleman and elsewhere.
We need a lot more study of TV shows, before we can draw realistic conclusions.

Mike Grost, (like the name, sign of great intelligence). Every artist, be it a director, writer, actor, or member of the crew has a style they implant on the series episode. Watch any TV series and you will note the director is usually a hired gun, there one week and gone the next. Even in sitcoms where one person can be the director for all the episodes the final decision about everything is made by the showrunner. That does not mean the networks or stars can not fire the showrunner.

This has changed over the years. In the fifties, especially at Warner Brothers, the studio often ruled. Compare Warner Brothers shows to other studios. There is a WB look.

But who was responsible for PETER GUNN, the director of the week or Blake Edwards?

In Hollywood the common belief is film is a director’s medium, television is a writer/producer medium, and stage is an actor’s medium.

The root problem here is that we are comparing two different kinds of evidence.

Michael and Walker are talking about what they know – or believe they know – about how TV shows were produced. This evidence suggests director’s roles were limited.

But Tise Vahimagi’s book “The American Vein” and my web site look at old TV shows themselves, and try to find common patterns in them, that run through a director’s work. We don’t try to explain how those patterns got there. We just note them as “interesting” common factors.

My Joseph H. Lewis article notes 150 factors common in his work. Almost all of them are found in both his features made for theaters, and his TV work. This seems like good evidence (to me) that his TV work shows his personal input.

Which approach is more productive in the long run? Only time will tell.
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I have a portal at my site, with links to my studies of TV directors of old Westerns:http://mikegrost.com/tvwest.htm

I have been enjoying watching the early 60s anthology series “Thriller” on DVD. I remember a few of these episodes from years ago when it was rerun on WOR-TV but more than half of them are brand new to me.

Interestingly, and to the point of this discussion, many of the “Thriller” episodes are quite cinematic in the way they were shot and lit. Some of the directors whose episodes are among the best were Arthur Hiller (best known for his 70s and 80s films), Douglas Heyes and Herschel Daugherty.

As a side note, three out of every four episodes on these Thriller DVDs are shows that were originally based on either a short story or a novel by a popular crime writer of the time. Charlotte Armstrong’s work was adapted three times. Robert Bloch’s name pops up ten times. I also noted Evelyn Berckmann, William O’Farrell and Margaret Millar in the credits. Rose’s Last Summer – a clever novel by Millar – was adapted fairly well and featured an excellent performance from Mary Astor.

Mike Grost is correct about Joseph Lewis of course. He loved oddball camera angles for instance and if you see a scene being shot through the spokes of a wagon wheel, then that might be Lewis. Notice I say “might”. There are always exceptions and I try to use words such as “usually”, “often”, “most”.

But after reading many books about the development of TV shows and watching thousands of episodes over many years, I still would have to say, for the most part, the director is too tied down by TV schedules, budgets, sponser interference, cast and crew and all sorts of other things, to really have much of an impact on a TV show. Yes, Joseph Lewis is an exception. So would John Alton be an exception if he had done alot of TV shows. Everything would be influenced by his photography and use of lighting.

Usually, and for the most part, these directors were assigned a TV show and told to complete it within a certain budget and a short amount of time. For the typical weekly show this did not leave much time to leave your personal stamp on a show. You were under alot of pressure to work with what you had and do the job. The directors in so many cases were in a straight jacket which was caused by the TV format. He had very little to say about script, cast, etc.

Sure, some of a director’s personal way of doing things might show up(like Joseph Lewis), and certain patterns might be detected. But not enough to say the director is in complete control. For instance I watched alot of COMBAT, the hit TV show about Vic Morrow and his platoon killing the Nazis. Robert Altman directed around 10 or so episodes and commented on a few. However, he was handed his orders for each episode and he knew what he had to do, etc. Not too much room or time for him to really do much except move the action along.

This has been a fascinating set of posts about directors of TV series. I’ve been lucky enough to know, tape with and write about some of the finest, like Joe Lewis, Paul Landres and Bill Witney, but very few were in their league as directors.

My sense is that B movies, and series TV after it superseded B movies, were somewhat like the pulp magazines. All sorts of hacks no one cares about today could make a living in these media but the writers on the level of Hammett,Chandler and Woolrich were as rare as the first-rate directors on Western or detective series.

I suspect most of those who have posted on this topic seem to be familiar with my Lewis and Landres books but may want to take a look at the two-volume Don Diablo set that I did a few years ago for Ramble House.

Don Diablo was the pilot of a Zorro-like series that Paul Landres directed in 1952 for his own short-lived company, Landmark Productions. Volume 1 contains the script, by J. Benton Cheney, with Paul’s handwritten alterations. Volume 2 consists of dozens of colored pencil drawings Paul made as he prepared to transform Don Diablo from script to film. Unfortunately the film is lost. But by correlating the shots as set forth in Volume 1 with the drawings in Volume 2, one can actually see a director at work.

Originally this material was all to be in my book on Paul but the publisher (Scarecrow) refused to print any color illustrations and they would have been a gibberish of lines if printed in black-and-white so Paul and I decided to drop all the Don Diablo material (except some anecdotes from our tapes together) and arrange for separate publication.

Paul lived to see the Scarecrow book but died before the Ramble House volumes came out.

Ah, Roy Huggins. A name from antiquity. (Not really, but it sounds good.) I remember at one time it seemed as if Huggins had a Warner Bros. show on tv every night. My week was not complete unless I was allowed to see CHEYENNE, MAVERICK, LAWMAN, 77 SUNSET STRIP, and a variety of other similar shows that inspired a kid in junior high and highschool. If I’m remembering correctly, these shows were mostly on Channel 7. My favorite of all was CHEYENNE. I had such a crush on Clint Walker! And later on John Russell in LAWMAN.

Many thanks, everyone. It was good to read that the introductory piece on TV Crime & Mystery was, surprisingly, so enthusiastically received.

Just in case some misunderstandings get out of hand, I did (and still do) subscribe to the auteurist notion that there were indeed some directors involved in TV work (in the U.S.) that exhibited an individual identity when their small-screen career was finally evaluated and assessed.

However, I do not intend to chart the history of the TV Crime & Mystery in this vein. For my heart, it’s an original author’s or screenwriter’s genre; perhaps more Erle Stanley Gardner than Raymond Burr.

Generally speaking, these TV directors (I will continue to think ‘auteurs’) were active on television mainly during the 1950s, the 1960s and the early 1970s. (Perhaps it was after all something of an Elephant’s Graveyard for these former Hollywood studio types?).

Such folk as John Brahm, Robert Florey, Tay Garnett and of course the excellent Joseph H. Lewis, as well as the up-and-coming types such as the always-interesting Robert Altman (his 1st season COMBAT! episodes are items to remember with pleasure), Bob Rafelson, Sydney Pollack (with writing collaborator, the great Robert Towne) and Jeannot Szwarc, among many others of course.

If I’m making any point here, it’s simply that the day of the singular Hollywood filmmaker has long gone.

In modern retrospect, however, I fully agree with Michael that the true power in creative television, it seems, lies with the producer/writer (showrunner?).

Yes, to me at least, Blake Edwards was responsible for most of the good things associated with PETER GUNN, especially given his radio (genre) history.

Yet, I still find Cassevetes’ contemporary JOHNNY STACCATO (as something of a copycat series) more dark and intriguing. The auteurs here were cinematographers John L. Russell and Lionel Lindon.

Yet, the 1960-62 NBC anthology THRILLER (only recently released on DVD) has so many wonderful elements to account for its many peak moments of enjoyment (in story, in visuals, in performance, etc.), that one is almost spoiled for choice.

The series producers were Fletcher Markle, Maxwell Shane and William Frye (bringing their previous movie genre experience into play); the interesting directors included Brahm, Herschel Daugherty (another man of the shadows), Douglas Heyes (‘The Hungry Glass’ is particularly good, despite the over-acting William Shatner), and the delightfully unexpected images from Ida Lupino; the writers of note were Donald S. Sanford (his ‘Well of Doom’ may just be this series’ MARK OF THE VAMPIRE, 1935), Robert Bloch, Barre Lyndon (and then it was based on stories ranging from Fredric Brown to August Derleth). All the talent involved appeared to bring their big-screen experience to the series. And I, for one, as a viewer, will always be grateful.

It seems that the last twenty or is it thirty or so years has presented to me a series of virtually unknown names in the director’s chair (film school graduates, lapsed rock video types?).

It most certainly seems to be a producer/writer’s medium these days (and perhaps it always was?). But I must confess (quite happily) that I continue to enjoy the works of Aaron Sorkin, Alan Ball, David Milch, David Chase, and multiple others.

Thanks, Yvette. Yes, I, too, grew up with Roy Huggins and the Warner Bros series. My favourites at the time were MAVERICK and 77 SUNSET STRIP. Ah, those good old TV days, eh?

Finally, yep, it’s clearly true and obvious – Mike Nevins’ book on Joseph H. Lewis is nothing short of superb!